SHANGOReturns!

A 'Black-Owned' hubby knows where his place is, whether at home or elsewhere at work. He knows and understands perfectly well that someone has taken over the position he once thought he occupied, thus freeing from whatever requirements that prior to them he felt burdened about. The wife too takes her place beside her Master as his toy and personal sex slut, no longer to dispel herself to the whim of the hubby. --------------------- BLACK MASTER SHANGO’s vehicle was still parked in his driveway when he arrived there.  He came down from his car with his briefcase in hand and went and tried the door handle, but it didn’t open for him.  He pressed the doorbell and waited, tapping his feet on the ground till almost a minute later he heard lock turn.  To his surprise, it wasn’t Shango or his wife that opened the door, but another black man, standing there smiling at him, sipping a can of beer in his hand.  It took Tim seconds to remember him as the officer who had a

It’s the start of the month of February.  In the US, it is designated as Black History Month ; you can look it up and find out more of what it’s about.  It as well should be Black-Ownership Month, and such an event shouldn’t merely be restricted to just one month but to all months in the calendar.  However, being that it’s February, it should be the start of the month for white couples (and whites in general) to be of submissive service to Black men/Masters all over. This should be the month that more white couples reaffirm themselves with their utmost dedication and service towards their Black Master for this time spent in their lives.  Not just to honour his presence in their homes, but as well his continuous legacy of training them towards learning to accept their cuckold desires under his tutelage. For single women and Milfs, this is the time they should reacquaint themselves with their sexual urges and remember whom they so much desire: the pleasure of submitting th

Dan was so fagged out by the time his plane landed at the airport around six in the evening.  All he could think of was him getting home, enjoying a hot shower, having dinner with his wife, and then some beauty sleep.  He had left Denver in a hurry and hadn’t made time to inform Annette that he would be returning home a day early.  He couldn’t help it.  The thought of spending one more day bickering with a bunch of irate accountants was too mind-numbing to stomach. He got his luggage and found himself a taxi; another half hour later and he was still stuck in city traffic.  He occupied the backseat grumbling while they eased along the traffic with snail-like pace.  He had tried calling Annette but got no response; she was probably feeling all lonely with him not around. The taxi deposited him in front of his home at eight forty-two.  Dan pressed the doorbell but no one came to answer.  He fished his set of house keys out of his jacket pocket and let himself inside. The hou